How It Can Change You
by L. M. Lachance
Summary: Betsy Gnol is in for a shock when her Aunt Madeline is named the only remaining and suitable relative of Christopher Chambers and his younger sister. Through gaining two new houshold members, Besty finds that all circumstances, big and small, can affect y
1. Chapter One

During the spring of my sophomore year of highschool, several remarkable things happened, changing my life, and the lives of Christopher Chambers and Gordon Lachance forever. An eventful time, some might say. But given the circumstances of today–the day I am writing this–I can only call it a good time, coated with the childhood sweetness that, on this eventful day, is gone.  
  
It started with the arrest of Chambers senior, a man also known as the drunk as a skunk wife and kid beater of Castle Rock, Maine. Sheriff Lock arrested the bastard after the intoxicated fool punched Mary Lou Logan over at the diner, when she spilled his coffee onto the counter by mistake. Still being in his stupor, Mr. Chambers through an outrageous fit at his arrest, bloodying noses and blackening eyes of the local officers. This event took place on Main Street at two o' clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Naturally everyone knew about it by three, including all of the Chambers kids.  
  
I never had envied Chris Chambers before, but on that day I was particularly glad not to be in his shoes. Cop punchers weren't taken lightly in that town, and neither were their sons, no matter how innocent. Let's just say none of us were surprised when Chris turned up at school the next day with a black eye. With his old man in jail, the only other explanation was that some patriotic citizen had taken it upon himself to deal out punishment on the criminal's offspring. Most likely one of those redneck truckers who hung out with Sheriff at the diner most weekday mornings. Yes, they seemed to have a knack for taking the law into their own hands.  
  
And the Sheriff with a shiner himself, the law didn't care if a Chambers kid got knocked around a little. It was normal for them to look battered anyhow.  
  
No, none of us were surprised when old Chambers got arrested. He'd always been a criminal. And there was little shock when it turned out he'd made some other stops that day, too, a man in Carlyle with a broken leg thanks to the capable driving of Mr. Chambers, and a woman's mailbox having been taken off the side of the road by what she called "a mad man driving a ford pickup". He was found guilty for all these things, and sentenced to seven years in Shawshank. No awe there.   
  
But all of Castle Rock was flabbergasted when Mrs. Chambers disappeared. Just two days after her husband's trial and she was gone without a word to anyone. None of us understood it. She had two kids still living with her, and with her husband out of the way it seemed like she'd want to raise them, finally, in peace. Hell, with Eyeball moved out she didn't have to worry about getting hit ever again, and not a thing left to trouble her except the usual household pests; bills, laundry, and cooking. But she hauled out of there overnight, and was never heard from again.  
  
There was little questioning, after that, about what should be done with the two Chambers minors. Most people expected they'd get shipped off to the children's home in Togus. After all, there were no relatives that anyone knew of, except Eyeball Chambers, and the Sheriff wasn't about to make a mistake like giving Eyeball a couple of kids. Yes, Togus would be the place for them then, and all would be right with the world once more. No one would miss a Chambers, after all.  
  
But then something happened, something was discovered over at the county office that no one expected, least of all me. Having felt some grief for Chris all my life, I had my private mourning at his being abandoned by his mother and then prepared to leave him a figure of the past.  
  
Wrong. It was twelve thirty on a Saturday afternoon. I lived with my Aunt Madeline, a mile or so from Castle Rock, and being out of the public eye, I was hula-hooping in the front yard, radio playing softly from the front porch. I was the hula-hooping champion, queen of the world. No one could go as fast or as long as I could and even though I was sixteen going on seventeen, even though I had a fairly decent reputation, I reveled in my hula hooping glory.  
  
Not that I had ever competed or anything. I just knew. Knew that I had real talent with that hoop and knew that someday I'd have a show at Radio City Music Hall, where they'd beg me to hula hoop my heart out while the Supremes performed on risers behind me. I would have a red, sequin dress and red high heels, and thousands of people would buy tickets to see me perform. Suddenly I wasn't in Castle Rock, I was in New York City, wearing that red sequin dress and listening to the groovy beat behind me while I swung my hips...  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Gnol," A deep masculine voice interrupted my fantasy. I gasped and the hoop fell to my ankles. Sheriff Lock stood in front of me in his khaki uniform, a stern, serious look on his face. "Is you aunt home, Miss?"  
  
"Yes sir," I turned crimson. "She's just inside. Come on in, sir." I moved stiffly with embarrassment as I led him into our old farm house. It was good sized, and felt welcoming. It was a little shabby (Aunt Madeline and I weren't the prime wealth of Castle Rock) and in the winter it could get drafty. But I grew up there and it was home.  
  
As I walked down the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen, I glanced at photos on the wall. Me as an infant, me as a six year old, me as a fourteen year old, and then my parents. Both of them died, typically, in a car crash before I was two. I came to live with my great aunt Madeline, and grew up with her as a mother. I can't say I ever missed my parents as I never knew them. But I did wonder sometimes, what it felt like to have a mother and a father, and hell, maybe a kid sister or two.  
  
The kitchen was bright and warm, the sunlight flooding through seven windows and brushing across the tabletop and stove, the chairs and the hard wood floor, and the yellow wall paper with the red cherries all over it. Aunt Madeline was digging through the fridge, her fanny high in the air, wearing ordinary Aunt Madeline garb; a wool skirt, a button down, sleeveless on this particular day, and boots. Shiny black rubber boots that she wore everywhere and replaced every one and a half years to the day.  
  
"Mm." I cleared my throat. Aunt Madeline stood and turned around.  
  
Seeing the sheriff lurking behind me she smiled her brightest. "Well hello there, Sheriff Lock. What can I do for you?"  
  
"Well," The sheriff stepped into the kitchen, the light illuminating his grisly, mountain man features. "I've got some business to discuss with you, Madeline. Some pretty important business."  
  
"Feel free to sit down, Sheriff, can I get you a coca cola?"   
  
I smiled. One of our greater luxuries in life was the fridge that never ran empty of Coke. My uncle Bernie worked for the Coca Cola company, and every month he visited, bringing us cases of the stuff. We were both a little addicted to it, and I knew it made Aunt Madeline proud to offer cokes out to all of our company.  
  
"That sounds nice, Madeline, thank you." The sheriff sat down at the table, the chair creaking under his broad frame.  
  
Aunt Madeline whisked around the kitchen in her simple house wife mode. She'd picked this little trick up off of television. Her favorite show was Leave it to Beaver, and she claimed a woman could learn oodles by watching that Mrs. Cleaver lady.   
  
"See how she always has Ward's dinner ready, Betsy?" She would ask me. "And see how he'll do whatever she asks? She's not as shallow as she seems."  
  
It was an old TV show, the kind that ran in the fifties when I was a baby. But sometimes, late at night you could catch reruns.  
  
Aunt Madeline sat down across from Sheriff Lock, passing him a coke. "Now what's this business all about, Sheriff Lock?"  
  
I pressed against the kitchen wall, remaining silent. If I was quiet enough, I would be privy to this obviously important conversation. If I didn't move, maybe Aunt Madeline wouldn't...  
  
"Betsy, could you excuse us please?" She smiled at me. I rolled my eyes as I walked out of the kitchen, pausing just outside the door to listen.  
  
"Now Madeline, you're familiar with the uh, Chambers incident, correct?" Sheriff asked. Aunt Madeline must have nodded because he continued, "And you understand the predicament we're in. I sure don't want to send them kids up to Togus," He sounded very insincere. "But up until now we haven't had any other options."  
  
"And what options do you have now, Sheriff?" Madeline asked, a sudden stiffness to her voice."  
  
"You're kept it pretty well a secret, Maddie." Sheriff chuckled. "And I can't say I blame you at all. Hell, mot people up in Castle Rock would have kept it secret too." I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wondering what he was getting at. "But you and I both know the truth, and I guess you know what I'm saying..."  
  
She might have, but I didn't. I nervously picked at a hangnail, still shifting my weight. I could picture Aunt Madeline's face, suddenly a little harsher, more serious. That line between her eyebrows becoming more apparent as she stared the Sheriff down.  
  
"And you haven't been able to contact their mother at all?" She asked, voice going slightly flat.  
  
"As far as we're concerned, she's gone. Maybe forever. And if that's the case, those two kids have got to go somewhere, Madeline."  
  
"She might come back."  
  
"It's doubtful." Sheriff sighed. "But if she did, I imagine she'd want full custody again."  
  
"So basically..." She trailed off. I looked down at my finger, which was now bleeding. I had picked off the whole nail without knowing it. Sticking the finger in my mouth, I continued to stand there silently.  
  
"So basically, they go to Togus," He told her. "Unless, as their great cousin and only surviving relative, you Madeline, take them in." 


	2. Chapter Two

The Sheriff had just left. I was sitting on the front porch, the hula hoop lifeless at my side. I had so many questions. It seemed entirely unreal. I mean, Chris had been in all of my classes since I was five. Even, remarkably, the advanced classes I took in highschool. I had never imagined anything like this happening, and believe me, I was the queen of imagination. I heard the screen door close behind me, heard the rubbery squeak of Aunt Madeline and her boots as she sat down next to me.  
  
"If I know you, Betsy, you just heard that whole conversation," She said, running her fingers through my short, curly black hair.  
  
"Yes ma'am." I answered, staring at the road.  
  
"So what do you think?"  
  
"I dunno." I answered honestly. "I'm blown away by this whole thing. Truly. What are you going to do?"  
  
She folded her hands together and smiled at me. "I want you to help me decide." she said. "Whether or not to take them in, I mean. It's going to have a huge impact on your life either way, Betsy."  
  
"You can't make me decide a thing like that." I told her, blown away. "If I say no, they'll go to Togus. I don't want to be responsible for sending them up to Togus."  
  
"Yes, I know what you mean." She sighed. "It would make us look like a couple of old witches, wouldn't it?" Another sigh. "But if we take them in, it's not like our popularity is going to boost either. We've never been town favorites, you know Betsy. Me with my smoking habit, and you with your introverted ways, but we take them in and I'm afraid people will start being down right cold with us."  
  
"But it isn't about us this time, is it Aunt Madeline?"  
  
She sat there for a long time, that one line between her eyebrows deeper than I'd ever seen it. Finally she spoke. "You know, Betsy. I think you're right about that. It's going to affect us, hell yes, but we really shouldn't be thinking about it."  
  
  
  
"So the question is, would they be better off with us, than in the children's home?"  
  
"No doubt in my mind, Betsy old girl." She took a cigarette from the front pocket of her apron, and lit up.  
  
We sat on the porch for a while after that, talking about things we'd have to do since the Chambers kids were coming. We'd have to fix up the old bedroom in the attic. Chris could stay there. We could convert Madeline's sewing room into a place for Cassie to use. We'd have to put up the shower curtain in the bathroom, finally, and buy a lock for the door. There was a list of things to be done around our house.  
  
"I'm going to go call the sheriff." Madeline stood. "And tell him what we've decided.  
  
"I'm going up to my room, for a while." I stood too.  
  
"I'll call you down when I need you. I'm not sure how soon those kids will be moved in here, but I figure the sooner, the better for them and for us. Might as well get used to it before summer comes."  
  
"Might as well."  
  
My room was the prettiest in the house, no doubt about it. More yellow walls (Madeline hated white walls in her house) and several large windows. My favorite window was in the west corner, with a window seat and plenty of light and view. Everything about that room seems perfect now. My bed was a four poster, older than dirt but as sturdy as a brick wall. Madeline made the quilt on it, for my mother when she was a little girl. It was pale blue with birds and flowers and things all over it. I was sixteen years old, but in my room I could be anyone I wanted, whatever age I wanted. Mostly, I was Betsy Gnol, best selling author. Writing was one of my secret joys. No one knew that I did it (not even Aunt Madeline) but I was always happiest with a blank notebook on my lap, and a pen in my hand.  
  
I opened my closet and pulled out "the carton". It was an old coke carton that, over the past four years, I had filled with over thirty-five notebooks. Some of them were like diaries, some of them I kept stories in. Some of them I took to school and filled with random thoughts that had occurred over the days. But all of them were completely secret. No one was allowed in my closet. Not Aunt Madeline, not my cousin Bernie. It was entirely off limits.  
  
I was working on a red notebook around the time Chris and Cassie came. I had been writing a romance about a woman who worked on Broadway and a man who played saxophone on the streets. But feeling it was quite sappy, I turned to a new page and began to write. Having kept all of those blessed notebooks, I still have what's written there...  
  
Has anyone ever imagined such a thing, as Christopher Chambers coming to live with me and Aunt Madeline? I think not. But it is an interesting idea. I wonder what he is truly like, Chris. Did he really steal the lunch money back in sixth grade? Is he like Eyeball, and his oldest brother in prison? Is he like his dad? Gordie Lachance doesn't seem to think so. But then, who knows Gordie, either? I have never lived with anyone but Aunt Madeline, and Cousin Bernie when he visits for a day or so once a month. I can only fathom what it will be like to suddenly have four in the house, instead of two. And Cassie. I have seen the girl twice in my life. Once when she was in kindergarten and just a week ago. She's in second grade now, probably eight or nine years old. She's so thin, and pale looking. All of the Chambers are like that, except for Chris who practically lives outdoors. He's tan and broad shouldered and healthy looking when he's not all bruised. What must they be feeling right now? Do they know that we're their only hope of not getting sent to Togus? I don't want them to think of us that way, like we're doing some charity. Because we're not. This happened to us, just like it happened to them. Am I glad that they're coming? Not especially. But then, I'm not upset, either. I guess I don't feel anything about it except complete awe. And some worry. Aunt Madeline has given me a perfect, quiet life and I like it this way. I like staying a mile away from Castle Rock, I like talking to her and only her. We have our own little balance out here. Might two more people upset the balance? Especially Chambers, who are known to be slightly...dodgy.  
  
Looking back on it today, and later that summer I realized how I had taken gossip for truth, other people's opinions for my own. Being, I felt, an open minded person this shamed me when I finally recognized it. How could I have been so stupid, so narrow? But then I think, what else could I have thought? Even my Aunt Madeline was skeptical of those folks, and they were her kin. Which reminded me...  
  
"Madeline!" I tromped down the stairs, shouting as I went. "Madeline!"  
  
"I'm in the attic Betsy, no need to scream!"   
  
Tromping back up the stairs I smelled paint. How very odd. "Madeline," I reached the attic. "How are you related to the Chambers exactly?"  
  
"Well, Betsy old girl," She was bent over a paint can, an old sheet on the floor beneath her. "I'm Mr. Chambers cousin. When I was a little girl, the lot of us lived in a town a little ways from here. People always treated me and my family like trash, so when I was eighteen I left. I didn't tell anyone where I was going and I changed my name so that they couldn't find me, and so that I could have a fresh start. Being associated with those people...it made you into an outsider, Betsy and I couldn't live with that. So I came to Castle Rock, found myself a husband, and had your cousin Bernie. Then, when Bernie was about fifteen, my rotten, no good drunk of a cousin showed up in Castle Rock with his new wife and by the time Bernie was twenty, they had a new baby and a reputation as low life. Mr. Chambers never recognized me, though I saw him on several occasions, and no one knew that we were related, not for years and years. Apparently the Chambers clan in the next town over has died out, and believe me, I won't be losing any sleep over it. But that leaves me as those kids' last remaining relative, and it's my duty as a Chambers has been to take them in."  
  
It was quite a tale, and suddenly I realized why it was such a tough choice for my Aunt Madeline. She'd shaken the Chambers name from her boots, clean of them for over thirty-five years, and now she was being asked to take it all back.  
  
"What color are you painting it up here?" I asked, changing the subject.  
  
"Well, come over here and have a look." She pulled the lid off the can and smiled.  
  
It was a fire engine red, brighter than any red I'd ever seen in my life. I smiled back at her. Aunt Madeline had an eye for color, and a gray old attic would soon be looking like a bedroom; a cozy, living space for a sixteen year old boy with no other place to go.  
  
We had half of the attic painted, when finally we took a break. "Sheriff says he's going to bring them in on Monday." She told me. "On Memorial Day."  
  
"That's a lot sooner than I expected."  
  
"Me too," She nodded. "But where else have they got to go? Sheriff can't keep em for more than a day or so. You know Chris Chambers hates old Lock and Lock hates Chris too. I figure it's best to get them separated as soon as possible."  
  
"Probably," I agreed, picking up my paintbrush again, and starting on the ceiling. Aunt Madeline said paint on a ceiling gave the place more depth. She would know. That woman painted those rooms over and over again. But oddly, the attic had never been touched.  
  
"What used to be up here?" I asked her.  
  
"Oh, Todd's fishing things." She told me. "He liked to keep it gray up here, said it looked more manly."  
  
Her husband, Todd, had died before I came to her. Heart attack. No one had seen it coming. But after nearly seventeen years of living without him she seemed to have put the tragedy in the past. She was a strong woman, the strongest I would ever know.  
  
We spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday fixing things up in the sewing room and the attic. Sunday evening we drove into Castle Rock to pick up a few things. The door lock, for one, and there were a couple other varied items that we needed. Through all of the stores we visited, hushed whispers and pointed stares followed. After we'd made our rounds, Aunt Madeline decided we could stand a burger and shake at the diner.  
  
We sat at the counter, as we always did when we came to eat. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, a cheeseburger sounding greasy and heavy–not at all what a Radio City Music Hall hula hooping star would eat.  
  
Down the counter a ways a heavy looking trucker was giving us a mean stare. I didn't know who he was, but he hardly looked away until we got our food. Then he stood, saying loudly, "So these are the folks taking in the Chambers trash, now. We were almost rid of em, those kids were headed to Togus." The whole diner was watching, some people nodding along as he spoke, his rich tenor voice filling the small space. "They were almost gone for good but no, they'll be round here forever now that Maddie's taking them in. Good old Maddie just attracts orphans I guess, they just come to her."  
  
I could feel a heat rising to my cheeks. I didn't know what he was getting at but I didn't like it, not one bit. Aunt Madeline took another sip of coffee and looked up at the man, waiting for him to say more. He did. "Yes sir, we were free of those Chambers forever, but now they'll be hanging round for the rest of their lives. And we've got Maddie and her little rag tag orphan girl to thank for it–,"  
  
"Well, Brutus," Maddie slammed her mug down on the counter. "At least you'll always be around, good old Brutus, ready to whip that sixteen year old boy into shape. Yes sir, those Chambers are half starved, beaten people but they can get vicious, especially that Chris when he's taken by surprise. How long did it take you, Brutus, to give him that black eye?"  
  
"Hush, Madeline!" He screamed, spittle spraying the pristine counter top.  
  
"Come on, Betsy, we're going home. I guess these people have forgotten what common decency is. Just as bad as the old Chambers man himself, you are Brutus, beating kids around..."  
  
And we stormed out of there, fast as lightning. 


	3. Chapter Three

Maddie and I were waiting on the porch, when the car pulled up the next day. I was picking away at my fingernails and Maddie was smoking a cigarette. The tension in the air was thick; Heavy on my heart and lungs, and it took all my strength to stand up as the Sheriff stepped out of his car, straightening his hat, and looking like a man with a mission.  
  
I'd gotten up at five that morning, and picked out my nicest dress; a pink number with a wispy skirt. I'd taken a long shower, scrubbing my skin raw with nervous energy, and after three long hours of pacing and muttering under our breaths, Maddie and I were more than ready to greet our new arrivals. Or at least as ready as we ever would be. There's no way to be prepared for that much change. The readiness I guess, comes in accepting it's arrival and doing what you can to accommodate it. And we'd done that, Maddie and I. We were opening up our lives, which were secluded and peaceful, to two people who had never known serenity.  
  
Chris stepped out of the cop car first, tall and proud looking, frowning in the bright sunlight of the eight o' clock hour. He was tan, and strong looking, and I felt tiny and weak in comparison. He seemed much more capable of handling the situation, and I watched as he took a small, pale hand from inside the car, and helped a small, frail looking girl from the back seat. Cassie. She, unlike her brother, looked helpless, on the verge of tears. As she glanced up at me I offered her a warm smile, feeling sympathy for the little girl who'd already endured a life time of trials.   
  
It was a sunny day and I tried my best to feel sunny as the Sheriff walked towards us, the two Chambers kids at his heels.  
  
"Well Maddie," He cleared his throat, rocking on his heels, recognizing our unease. "You know Chris and Cassie." She nodded. "Well, then," He sighed. "I'll be going. Got to get to the office, you know. But the county will be sending by some papers, some stuff you need to sign and their birth certificates. That type of thing."  
  
"All right." Maddie nodded. "Thank you, sheriff."  
  
"Thank you, Maddie." He smiled, a brief, small smile. "Buh-bye. Bye Betsy. All of you have a good day, now."  
  
And he left. The barrier that stood between them and us was gone, and nothing else could put off the mix that was destined to occur.  
  
Maddie stepped forward. "Hello, Chris," She smiled, her eyes crinkling in a friendly way. Chris stepped forward and shook her hand.  
  
"Hey."   
  
"And hi, Cassie." Maddie crouched down and looked the small girl in the face. Her dusty looking blond hair was unbrushed, and her blue eyes looked tired, like she hadn't seen much sleep. But she couldn't resist my aunt's friendly face. Her tiny pink lips stretched across her pale, thin cheeks in what was unmistakably a grin.   
  
"Hi," She squeaked.  
  
I was up to bat. I smiled reaching for Chris' hand. "Hey." I greeted him quietly. He smiled back, taking my hand in a firm shake.   
  
"Hey."   
  
I had thought that saying hello would ease our obvious discomfort, but I was mistaken. With the ritual greeting over, there was nothing left to fill the long hours of getting-to-know-you time that would follow.  
  
"Well," Maddie put her hands on her hips and straightened her back, rubber boots planted firmly in the dust just beyond our porch. "I suppose we should all go on inside, see if we can't get everything straightened out. Maybe do a little talking. Don't think I can stand much more of this silence."  
  
Chris' face broke into a smile, and I laughed, breathing with relief. Things were going to be okay. Maddie would see to it. 


	4. Chapter Four

"Have you two had breakfast?" Maddie asked, having seated Chris and Cassie at our kitchen table. I lurked silently in the doorway, watching like it was a TV show, some new sitcom I'd discovered.   
  
"The sheriff's wife gave us some oatmeal." Chris answered, his voice deeper, more grown up than I remembered.  
  
"Yeah, but it was yucky!" Cassie declared, wrinkling her small nose.  
  
"Cassie!" Chris whispered, throwing a reprimanding glance in her direction. Maddie laughed.  
  
"Well how would you like some non-yucky pancakes?" Maddie began digging around the cabinets for her frying pan.   
  
"Yes!" Cassie shouted her approval. Chris merely grunted, and looked appreciative.  
  
"Come in and sit down, Betsy!" Maddie called. I shrunk back, but it was too late. "Yes, I see you hiding over there and I know you haven't eaten a thing since you got up. You'll be having pancakes if I have to force them down your throat."  
  
"No need," I whispered, taking a seat next to Cassie. "Maddie makes great pancakes."  
  
"Darned straight," Maddie whistled at the greatness of her own skills. "Pancakes to die for."  
  
She served up a series of her pancakes; blueberry, chocolate chip, even a few banana, which Chris wolfed down in the blink of an eye. The kid ate like a horse. Cassie picked along, mutilating six pancakes, but consuming about one. Maddie, knowing my appetite, set five on my plate, and the amount was just right. I privately marveled at how close we were.  
  
Would Maddie get to know Chris and Cassie that way? I hoped so.   
  
I was tempted to go back to my room after breakfast, but I knew I had duties elsewhere, and lingered around the kitchen while Maddie finished washing the dishes. Chris and Cassie were waiting quietly in the living room, though Chris had offered to help with the dishes.   
  
"Say, Betsy," Maddie stuck the last plate in the cabinet."Why don't you show those two around?"  
  
I stared at her, open mouthed. "But Maddie, aren't you going to–"  
  
"Now don't get to fussing!" She tossed the dish towel into the sink. "I've got a few things I need to take care of around the kitchen. We can't just leave them waiting out there, can we?"  
  
"You're abandoning me?!"   
  
"Betsy Gnol!" She turned and scowled at me. "Have I ever abandoned you in your entire life?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
"That's right." She nodded smugly. "I haven't." She pulled me into a hug. "I just need to make sure we've got enough food around here. Chris eats like there's no tomorrow. I guess I forgot just how hungry teenage boys are." I nodded, and smiled bravely. "Now, you just show em around, and don't be shy, Betsy. They seem like nice kids, nothing to be worried about."  
  
I walked slowly from the kitchen into the living room, dragging my feet with every step. I was never any good at talking to strangers. School was generally uncomfortable for me and I hated going into town. I always got the feeling folks were criticizing me. That feeling sat in the pit of my stomach as I worked up my courage, just outside the living room doorway.  
  
Our "parlor", as Maddie called it when she was feeling fancy, was small, papered in a blue floral print. We had an overstuffed red sofa, an armchair, where Maddie did a lot of her evening smoking over the newspaper, and a coffee table with a vase full of daisies on top. It was cozy, and comfortable, and Cassie had made herself right at home. The small girl was asleep, strung over the couch with her feet in Chris' lap.  
  
"She drifted off." Chris looked up at me, almost apologetically.  
  
"That's alright." I smiled, trying to look my friendliest. "Would she be more comfortable in bed? Maddie and I've got her room all set up and ready."  
  
"I'm sure she would." He nodded, appreciatively. I was just about to wake her when much to my surprise, Chris bent over and took her into his arms, in a sincere gesture I'd never expected from him.  
  
"Right this way." I led him up the narrow stairway, into the first room on the right of the hall. It was a shade darker than the rest of the rooms in the house, having only two windows, but it was still warm and cheerful, and I could almost feel Chris smiling beside me as I pulled back the sheets on the bed for Cassie.   
  
"She'll really like this." He said quietly. I played with the corners of a pink quilt Maddie had found in the attic and placed on the bed, nodding while he lay Cassie down.   
  
"Would you like to see the rest of the house?" I asked.  
  
"Sure."  
  
"The bathroom is here," I opened the door and pointed. "I guess that's the most important thing to know. That door, to the left, that's Maddie's room, and the one down the hall is mine." Chris nodded, absorbing all this information. I pulled open a small, skinny door at the very end of the hall and led him up a final set of stairs, even narrower and steeper than the first.  
  
"I know it looks like a twisted old tower," I muttered. "But it's really–"  
  
"Lord!" He exclaimed, stepping into the bright red room. "Lord almighty!"   
  
"Bright, huh?"   
  
"It's the brightest thing I've ever seen." He shook his head. "It's beautiful."  
  
I beamed. Maddie had been right. The red worked. "Glad you like it."   
  
He sat down on the quilted bed and looked around. "You know it's hard to believe," He whispered. "That I have my own room. Never had my own room before."  
  
"No?"   
  
"Uh-uh. I shared a room with Eye-ball until he moved in with Ace and the boys, and then I shared with Cassie. Hell, I might get lonesome up here."  
  
I smiled.  
  
"Sorry," He blushed. "For cussing. Didn't mean to offend you or anything. Just...forgot I guess, that I was living in a civilized place with two women and–,"  
  
"Hell, Chris." I laughed at him. "You ought to hear Maddie carry on. You'd think she was a sailor from the likes of her talk."  
  
He smiled. I'd made him smile. Feeling triumphant, I turned to leave him alone for a while, but then he called out, "Betsy?"   
  
"Yeah, Chris?" I turned around.   
  
"Thanks." 


	5. Chapter Five

Cassie didn't wake up until after noon. Chris, Maddie and I were eating sandwiches in the kitchen when we heard her stirring.  
  
"She slept for three and a half hours!" Maddie remarked. "Was she up late the last couple of nights?"   
  
"Last couple of years." Chris answered, looking sad.  
  
"I imagine." Maddie nodded. "You know my father was a lot like yours, Chris. Drank too much, hit too much..." She drifted off, staring into her glass.  
  
Chris stood suddenly. "I'm going to go bring Cassie down. Might be alarming, to wake up in strange room like that."   
  
Cassie came down a few moments later, and began with her lunch, but Chris didn't return to the table. I found him standing on the porch, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.  
  
"You alright?" I asked cautiously, nearing him.  
  
"Yeah." He muttered. "Just thinking about things."  
  
"Oh." My curiosity was aroused. "Like what?"  
  
"Like my mom, and where she must have gone. I guess I don't blame her but..."  
  
"But you miss her?"  
  
"It's a funny thing." He turned to me, the sun emphasizing his sharp features. "She never stood up for herself, against my old man. Never stood up for us, either. Made me angry, the way she let him treat her and us kids. But I do miss her." He laughed. "I guess it's cause she never hit me."   
  
"Oh, Chris." I sighed. "You know, we always knew you were getting beat around at home. Everyone knew....but I guess I just never..."  
  
"It's okay." He assured me. "There's no way you can know, unless you been through it. You can't even imagine..." Letting out a deep sigh he asked, "You want to talk about something else?"   
  
"Sure," I nodded. "You happy about getting out of school for the summer?"   
  
"Damn happy," He laughed. "Four more days now. What do you and Maddie do around here in the summer time?"   
  
"Well, " I sat down on the porch railing. "There's a lake a few miles down the road. Sometimes I ride my bike down there and swim. And of course there's the woods and all, plenty to do round there." I racked my brain for summer time activities. "I'm part of a girl's ball league."  
  
"Oh?" He sat down on the rail next to me. "Softball?"  
  
"Yeah. It's unofficial, but it's fun. Bunch of girls fourteen to twenty get to together in July and we all have a big tournament."  
  
"What position do you play?" He asked.   
  
"Catcher." I replied. "Best damn catcher in three counties."   
  
"I see." He smiled to himself.  
  
"So," I peeled away at the chipped paint on the railing. Miss Busy Fingers, Maddie would call me. "So, what are you gonna do all summer?"   
  
"Hang around here, I guess." He sighed. "Maddie wouldn't mind me having a friend around would she?"   
  
"Nah. She likes a little company."  
  
"Well, then I'll probably hang out with you, and Cassie, and probably Gordie. You know Gordie Lachance right?"   
  
Tall, skinny kid with the big brown eyes, driving a blue pick up. "Yeah. I've seen him."  
  
"He's my best friend, just about."  
  
"Oh."   
  
"You got a best girl friend or anything?" Chris asked curiously. "Any chicks going to be coming around this summer?"   
  
"Other than my cousin Lavinia, who's eighteen? Nah. Maddie's my best friend."  
  
"Lavinia, eh?" Chris smirked. "Sounds like a peach."  
  
"Oh she is." I rolled my eyes. "A real doll."  
  
We laughed. Talking to Chris really wasn't that bad.  
  
(I'd really like to know if I'm getting carried away with dialogue. If I'm lacking in detail and description, PLEASE tell me.) 


	6. Chapter Six

When I woke up the next morning, the sky was an ugly slate color and I could smell the rain coming. Not exactly a promising day, but I had other things to worry about. Things more important than the weather. Mostly I was thinking about what would happen when Chris, Cassie, and I got on the bus in front of my house, and how Chris and I'd be treated when we got to the high school.  
  
I'd never been tormented myself. I was too quiet, too reserved to take up any notice at all, much less negative notice. I had a small group of girl friends. None of us were really close, but we ate lunch together every day, and talked a little bit. I was doing all right, but I knew, in the pit of my stomach where all bad things are realized, that things were going to change and not for the better. Maddie and I had been welcomed to a small taste of that at the diner a few nights before. The town wasn't looking happily upon the people who'd kept the Chambers around.  
  
It seems to me Castle Rock considered Chris and Cassie the way they'd consider stray dogs. Ugly, underfed stray dogs that no one wanted. They'd throw rocks at them until they left town, or died, and most people were hoping they'd just shrivel up and die, but they'd accept Togus too. But Maddie and I, we interfered with their plans. They were, as that old truck driver had said, free and clear of the Chambers. But too bad, they were back, and guess who's fault it was?  
  
I shivered involuntarily and shut my window with a bang. I took a quick shower, had a bowl of oatmeal, and then, it being only six o' clock, I waited on the couch in the living room, my legs drawn up to my chest, frowning in worry while I considered all of the hateful things that might be said.   
  
Cassie came down at six fifteen. I walked her into the kitchen and got her started with a bowl of oatmeal. This time she really ate, almost two and a half bowls plus a couple of glasses of juice to wash it all down with.  
  
"Betsy," She said quietly, looking very seriously at her second empty bowl. Her eyebrows were all wrinkled up the way a sixty year old woman's might be, and she talked about like we were both forty. "Betsy, do you think people will leave me and Chris alone now that we're here?"  
  
I sat down across from her, wanting to tell her of course they would but the words didn't come up. The lies I was going to give her were caught in my throat, and instead I found myself saying, "I don't know Cassie. Probably not."  
  
She looked disappointed, so I continued explaining. "People in Castle Rock aren't very nice Cassie, and they're not very smart either. Instead of seeing you and Chris, they see your dad and your older brothers, and they treat you like you've done something wrong. I know you haven't, but that's how they're going to treat you." She nodded. "Just remember," I finished. "That these people don't mean anything. You can grow up and move away from here and nothing any of them say or do can stop you, you understand?"  
  
She nodded, and smiled at me bravely. I marveled at the strength of such a little girl, smiling myself, and then Chris came and sat down. "Thank you," He whispered. "For being honest."  
  
I couldn't think of anything to say in return, so I got up and started washing my bowl, feeling awkward as usual.  
  
The bus came at seven forty five. I had spent the last ten minutes braiding Cassie's long blonde hair on the porch, watching as Chris paced nervously across the sidewalk. We all stood at the sight of the bus, glancing anxiously at one another.  
  
I got on first. It was the least I could do, I felt, provide a shield so maybe some of the ugly comments didn't have to be heard by Chris and Cassie.   
  
The bus was old and musty smelling, and the floor was littered with trash. But when I tripped I knew it wasn't over a pop can or on an old wrapper, but over somebody's foot in a less than accidental way. I stumbled forward, grabbing a seat just in time. My rage was hot. I turned to find the culprit, and discovered Max Little, a fat heap of stupidity, laughing into his fist. He was a year older than me, but much smaller, and I grabbed his shirt and shook him around like he was a rag doll. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Little, you pile of lard? You think you're going to trip me up like that? Well I'll–"  
  
"Hey!" The bus driver called at me. "We won't be having any of that."  
  
"But he tripped her!" Cassie explained, pointing at Max with a tiny finger.  
  
"I don't care what he did, they'll be no roughhousing from any of you on my bus."   
  
I stared, open mouthed at the bus driver who had once been just and fair. But I didn't have to ask any questions, I knew what was wrong. We were harboring Chambers and he wasn't on my side anymore. I turned and walked back to me seat, trying hard not to scream aloud or cry.   
  
School wasn't any better. If people didn't make nasty remarks, or lash out physically, they ignored me completely. All of my classes were suddenly hell, and lunch was a welcome escape. But then I realized that I no longer had a place among my usual friends. They all stared coldly when I sat down until finally one of them said, "Betsy, we've all decided that–that maybe you should go sit someplace else."  
  
I grabbed my lunch tray, and left, but found I had no place else to go. I could feel my eyes filling up with hot, angry tears as I shamefully walked across the cafeteria, looking for an empty space where I could be alone. Finally I noticed Chris waving at me, from a table in the far corner. I sat down next to him and breathed, "Thank you," with relief.  
  
"No..." he said. "You know I should be telling you I'm sorry."   
  
"Lord Chris," I dropped my fork in disgust. "Sorry for what? Sorry that we took you in? Hell, Chris, do you think we didn't know what would happen? I've been–I've been expecting this..." A tear slipped, and fell down into my applesauce.  
  
"It's just harder than you thought, isn't it?" He asked, looking away while I cried.  
  
I didn't answer. It was harder, we both knew that. No need to talk aloud of just how hard it was, how hard it had been for him his whole life.  
  
"Hey, Chris." A deep voice spoke, and a long, tall, Gordie Lachance sat down across from us. "Hello, Betsy." He greeted me softly.   
  
I wiped my eyes and smiled at him. "Lo, Gordie."  
  
"So what's up?" Gordie asked Chris. I expected Chris to talk about how hard things were, but what I heard was a long, detailed discussion of Maddie's banana pancakes.  
  
"Best damn things I ever ate." Chris declared, sprinkling a little salt on his corn. "Man I'm telling you, Gordie, you got to try them sometime."  
  
"Sure, sure." Gordie nodded. "So you guys ready for that History quiz we've got today? Supposed to be pretty hard."  
  
"Course, Gordie, that chapter was easy." Chris nodded.  
  
"It was kind of easy." I agreed.   
  
"Well I couldn't concentrate on it." Gordie declared, opening his carton of milk. Chocolate milk.  
  
"Gordie was probably too busy making up stories in his head to pay attention to what he was reading in the book." Chris told me. "He's always doing that shit."   
  
Gordie looked uncomfortable. "That was sort of it," He said. "But not really. I'm mean I'm not really into–"  
  
"He makes up great stories, Betsy. The kid's a genius."   
  
Gordie shifted. "Not really. That's all kid stuff, not anything serious I mean..." he trailed off.  
  
Chris looked up at him and rolled his eyes. "Always selling yourself short, Gordie. What am I gonna do with you?"   
  
"Bite me," Gordie smirked.   
  
"Screw you, Lachance."   
  
"Can't. I'm too busy with your mom." Gordie blushed and looked at me. "I'm sorry. I forgot you were sitting there. I didn't mean to–,"  
  
"It's alright." I bit back a laugh. "I'll survive."  
  
"Betsy's a tough old broad, Gordie." Chris punched me in the arm, gently. "You should have seen her take on that fat ass Little kid on the bus this morning."  
  
I smiled, but suddenly felt sick to my stomach again. I remembered exactly why I was sitting with Chris and Gordie in the first place.  
  
**Thanks to The Good Girl for continually reviewing me. Much appreciation. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**There's a few things I feel I need to say before I continue this story any further. I re-read The Body this weekend and discovered that I've made a significant mistake. I made up Cassie, thinking that Chris' siblings were never actually mentioned in the original novella by Stephen King (aside from Eyeball of course). But guess what? I was wrong. In the Body, Chris has two younger brothers and a sister; Sheldon who's nine, Emery, five, and a two year old girl named Deborah. I considered rewriting my whole story but I read my reviews, and felt encouraged to continue with the version I've got going. Plus, the fact of the matter is, I'm too lazy to go back and write six chapters over. So please bear with me, and if you haven't noticed this mistake, I'm sorry I brought it up. I just don't want to get flamed over something trivial like a minor betrayal of the original plot (actually I'd rather not get flamed at all, though I respect and want to hear EVERY opinion). But then heck. This whole story betrays the plot! Heh heh heh. Forgive me, I'm rambling. I just felt this needed to be said and my apologies given. P.S. Thanks for the reviews. They were lovely.P.P.S.My chapters are short. I'm sorry. I have a short dedication span.  
  
The history quiz was easy as Chris and I had figured it'd be. I finished it quickly, turned it in, and returned to my desk for what would be an hour of "silent study". Unfortunately, the study was not so silent. Fifteen minutes later, a boy two seats to my right hissed my name. I turned and looked at him, dreading what half wit insult he'd come up with. He was holding up a spiral notebook with my name, Betsy, written in thick black letters on the paper. I watched, curiously as he flipped the page.  
  
IS. BETSY IS. A few more pages turned. BETSY IS ANOTHER. BETSY IS ANOTHER CHAMBERS'. The message eventually spelled out, Betsy is another Chambers' slut. My face burned, and I could hear the people around me snickering. The boy smiled a sick, slow, evil smile, enjoying the obvious amusement of his audience. I flipped him the bird and bent over a book, not daring to glance up, but not reading either. I couldn't see. Everything seemed to be swirling in clouds of angry red. I grit my teeth together, furiously.   
  
"Hey," Someone whispered. I slowly raised my head. Gordie Lachance was leaning far out of his seat, talking to Mr. Notebook. "Hey."  
  
"Waddya want Lachance?" The boy snarled.  
  
"I just wanted to ask you about the whole slut thing you know, because I hear that's what they call your mom down at Sukey's Tavern, when she does her table dances and stuff." Gordie said, looking sincere. "Isn't that what they call your mom?"  
  
"Go to hell, Lachance." But it was too late. A new series of snickering broke out, and Gordie smiled, drawing back into his chair, having succeeded in what he set out to do–draw attention away from me. I watched him for a while, amazed and gratified. A few moments later he looked back at me, giving me a weak smile. I just blinked.  
  
That day after school Chris and I waited for the bus, and despite the rain–which was falling steadily by then–it was a million and a half degrees. Neither of us were looking forward to the ride, to the grade school and then home. It would be even hotter on the bus, and then it would stink and then...well, I knew what else we were dreading.  
  
"Haven't you two chums had enough of the bus today?" We turned around.  
  
"Hey Gordo," Chris grinned at his friend, and the wrinkles around his eyes went away and he looked seventeen again.   
  
"Hi," I said shyly, not knowing how to react to the way he'd saved me in history. I was glad Chris didn't know about that. He'd been too wrapped up in Algebra to notice anything that was going on at the time, and I was grateful. It would only have made him feel more guilty. Chris, as I would learn, constantly felt guilty, mostly for things that weren't even his fault.  
  
"Hi Betsy." Gordie smiled, ever warm, ever friendly. "What gives with you two riding that heap of crap again? Not enough fun this morning? Do you feel like you need to go back for more?"  
  
"No," Chris sighed. "We just don't feel like walking a couple miles, hot as it is."  
  
"Hell, Chris, I've got a truck you know." Gordie laughed. "I could take you home."   
  
"No kidding?" Chris looked thrilled.  
  
"No kidding." He replied, then adding, "You too, Betsy."  
  
"Would you mind stopping at the grade school so we could get Cassie?" Chris asked.   
  
"No." Gordie sighed. "Of course not. Let's just go already, before we all get soaked."  
  
Gordie's truck was bright robin's egg blue, contrasting sharply against the gray wetness of Castle Rock. Chris sat in the middle, next to Gordie, and I sat by the window, looking out as we drove down the road to the shabby grade school we'd all left behind.  
  
Cassie was waiting at the bus stop, her shoulders hunched over, looking tired. Gordie rolled down the window, and smiled at her. "Hey little girl, could you use a ride?"  
  
"Hey Cassie!" Chris waved at his sister. Her face lit up and she ran around to the passenger side of the truck. I opened the door and helped her up, watching as she settled in Chris' lap.  
  
"Did you have a good day, Cassie?" Chris asked.  
  
"Not really," She answered honestly, playing with a stray thread hanging from Chris' sleeve. "Not really, but I'm alright."  
  
"Maybe tomorrow will be better," Gordie suggested brightly.  
  
"Maybe." Cassie agreed, but looked doubtful.  
  
"I'll bet Maddie's fixed some cookies." I spoke suddenly. "She likes to bake during the day when I'm gone. Probably chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal or sugar."  
  
"Peanut butter, maybe?" Cassie asked.   
  
"Maybe. She likes those."   
  
It didn't take long to get there, although Gordie's driving style was slow, and patient, like maybe he was enjoying the scenery. Of course, there was no scenery to be looking at around Castle Rock, but he drove that way just the same, the windows rolled down and the radio playing softly while he and Chris talked about trivial things. It was almost pleasant. I'd made the drive with Maddie a million times before, but it was interesting suddenly.   
  
"Maddie wouldn't mind Gordie coming in for a while, would she Betsy?" Chris asked.   
  
"Not at all," I replied, helping Cassie out of the truck. "Gordie, you're more than welcome." 


	8. Chapter Eight

Gordie ended up staying for more than a little while. It was almost six by the time he left. Maddie had indeed been baking, and peanut butter cookies at that. Cassie sat down at the kitchen table and inhaled three or four while Gordie and Chris stood around, nibbling for an hour or so until the cookies were gone. I downed a glass of milk and had two or three cookies total, much more interested in the conversation than what I was eating.   
  
"How are your parents, Gordie?" Maddie asked, wiping down her cookie sheets.  
  
"They're okay." He answered, examining the cookie like it was a work of art instead of peanut butter, flour, sugar, eggs, etc. Chris threw Maddie a warning glance, pleading with her not to make any inquiries or comments about Denny.  
  
Dennis Lachance had died in a jeep accident, almost five years to the day. It was a sensitive issue with Gordie, but not so much as it had been. His parents were the ones who couldn't get a grip on things. Never smiling, hardly ever speaking, they wandered around like they were dead themselves, and as far as I knew they'd made no attempts to reconstruct their family.   
  
Not that it was any of my business. I just felt for the kid was all. It was kind of ironic in a way. A girl who'd never known parents pitying a boy who's parents were alive and well–just cold and bitter and worn out on life.  
  
"I suppose you're all real glad school's out soon, huh?" Maddie smiled.  
  
"That's no lie." Chris nodded, cramming the rest of a cookie into his mouth.  
  
"Summer's going to be really nice." Gordie sighed with relief. "At least once we get past all this rain."  
  
"Well, you feel free to come around as often as you want, Gordie. You're welcome up here." She said brightly, smiling at him. I could tell Maddie had taken a liking to the quiet, stick thin boy eating cookies in her kitchen.  
  
"Thanks." He smiled back.   
  
After a while I ventured into the living room. Cassie and I watched the after school cartoon special while Maddie went into town for some milk (I was a milk fiend, Chris took it in like it was candy, and Gordie had relieved us of several glasses during his time in the kitchen), and Chris and Gordie went up to Chris' room to waste some time. It was obvious that Gordie didn't really feel like going home all that quickly.   
  
I got the feeling, sitting there with Cassie, that she hadn't watched too much TV before. Her young face was a light with amusement and pleasure, and suddenly something I'd always taken for granted was a wonderful invention meant for our great entertainment.   
  
"Look, Chris!" Cassie giggled as her older brother came down the stairs, his friend close in tow. Chris peered at the screen and ruffled her hair.   
  
"I've got to get going, Chris." Gordie said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"See ya, Gordie." Chris waved as Gordie walked out the door.  
  
"Did he just leave?" Maddie popped out of the kitchen, returned from the grocery store.  
  
"Yup," Chris nodded.  
  
"Well damn, I was going to send some cookies along with him."  
  
"I'll take them out." I volunteered boldly, standing. I had a curious eagerness to see him one more time before he left. "He hasn't driven off yet. I can get them."  
  
Maddie slipped back into the kitchen and returned seconds later with a stack of peanut butter cookies wrapped in a towel."Hurry now, Betsy." She urged me, wanting her treat to reach the nice young man before he left.  
  
I jogged down the front steps, my thin wispy skirt getting tangled with my legs as I tried to rush. Gordie was just pulling away, but when he saw me trotting towards him he stopped and rolled down his window.  
  
"Maddie wanted you to have some cookies." I told him, thrusting the parcel through the open window.  
  
"Thank you," He took them, looking grateful. "Tell her I said thanks."  
  
"I will." I stood there for a second, trying to think of something else to say.  
  
There was no need. He spoke first. "Betsy, you know," He started carefully. "I just want to say I think you and your aunt are really decent people, if that makes sense, for what you're doing for Chris and Cassie. No one has ever really...been nice before. And even if they both act tough, I think–I think everybody needs someone to take care of them every once in a while. Especially Chris and don't tell him I said this but he's the best guy I know. He's always looking out for everybody, like everyone else's problems are his too. And I'm not saying it's good for him. Hell, you've seen him. He looks like he's about forty five, him and Cassie both. You and Maddie will take care of them though. I can tell."   
  
I stared, struggling to reply.  
  
"Shit. You must think I'm crazy for telling you all that." Gordie blushed and looked down at the seat of his truck.   
  
"No..." I answered. And it was the truth. It was odd. Gordie Lachance was a stranger to me, but he'd opened up in that one moment and told me what he felt. Odd...but not crazy. It was the kind of talking I did, the kind of talking I understood. Conglomerations of speech, connected in a way, but unorganized and awkward. Exactly the way a crazy person would talk. But I knew Gordie wasn't crazy, nor what he said. It was soothing.  
  
"Thanks." I told him. "Good to know someone's still on our side."   
  
"Yup." He nodded.   
  
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Gordie cleared his throat. "Well I've got to go."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But I'll see you tomorrow, Betsy."  
  
"Mmhm."   
  
"Hey," He turned to me once more before taking off.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Eat lunch with us again?"  
  
"'Course."  
  
**I can't decide if I like this or not. It's not necessarily my favorite thing and it wasn't all that much fun to write...let me know what you think. 


	9. Chapter Nine

I lay awake in bed that night for hours. I never was a good sleeper but when Chris and Cassie came I always had more to stay up and think about. I was lucky if I got six hours in a night. That night I thought about the day, thought about what Chris and Cassie must be feeling, and I thought about Gordie too. The boy had been trying to tell me how he felt about Chris, what he wanted for the boy. He'd come pretty close to making it all clear–there were only a few parts of what he'd said that I was still trying to work out.   
  
I didn't know how Maddie and I were supposed to be helping Chris and Cassie, mostly. By giving them room and board? That wasn't anything. You could get the same thing at any second rate hotel with a continental breakfast. What had Gordie been talking about? What aid was he referring to?  
  
It occurred to me, later on, exactly what we gave them while they were with us. It was little things. Banana pancakes and peanut butter cookies, and quilts for their beds. It was watching TV with Cassie and trying to show her the good time Maddie had always shown me. Not blaming Chris for the torment I was taking. That's what we gave them. The shame of it is, I'll never know if it was enough.  
  
It had begun to storm, a loud, violent storm with strong winds and lightning. It was the kind of storm that could have blown my windows clear in on me, and as they started to rattle, I moved away. Fumbling for the light switch, I flipped it on just in time to see the power blow out. Goose bumps prickled my skin, and I slowly backed out into the hall.  
  
Then I heard screaming. It was the kind of screaming I'd never heard before, anguished, frightened screams emitting from the attic. Had the house blown in up there? Without thinking I ran up the rickety stairs and flung open the door.   
  
Chris was sitting up, muscles completely tensed, staring into the blackness. He muttered something inaudible, and, seeing that the roof was completely intact I slowly backed down the stairs, feeling foolish for my sudden alarm.  
  
"Cassie?" He called out. "Who's there?"  
  
"Uh," I stared bashfully at the floor. "Betsy. I just heard screaming, and came to make sure....I mean I don't think the attic could blow in or anything but my windows were rattling and so I just wanted to make sure..."  
  
As the lightning flashed, the room was illuminated. His forehead gleamed with sweat and his normally tan skin had gone white. "Oh." He said quietly, still breathing heavily.  
  
"You all right up here?" I asked, a little concerned at his obviously shaken state.   
  
"I'm fine." He lied, flashing me the Chris Chambers ice smile.  
  
"Liar." I spoke firmly.  
  
He laughed, a choked, drowning laugh. "Okay. You caught me."  
  
"Were you dreaming? What happened?" I shifted my weight, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Was it bad?"   
  
He pulled the quilt up a little higher, shivering involuntarily before he asked, "Do you know Teddy Duchamp?   
  
"The kid with the long hair and the thick glasses? Yeah, I know him. He used to take the bus, but now he rides around with his friends after school."  
  
"Yeah," Chris nodded. "Well me and him used to be pretty tight, back in grade school and stuff. And this one time we were climbing a tree up at Gordie's. It was a real tall tree, and it wasn't all that sturdy. We must have been a hundred feet off the ground at least. And I stopped, you know, because the branches at the top were small and rotten and I mean, we were both scrawny little kids, but I knew they wouldn't hold." He paused for a second. "Hey Betsy?"   
  
"Yeah, Chris?"   
  
"This is going to sound real pussy. So, you know, I'd appreciate if–"  
  
"Chris? You think I'm going to be talking to anyone besides you and Gordie anytime soon? Nobody at school cares what I have to say anymore anyway."  
  
"I know." He nodded. "But I don't even want Cassie to know, or Maddie. They'd think something was wrong with me."  
  
"I doubt it." I told him. "But I won't tell."  
  
"Thanks," He smiled again, the same beaten smile. "Anyway, I told Teddy the tree wouldn't hold him. But he didn't believe me and he kept on going. And he reached the top too, you know, he reached the top of that stupid tree. But the branch he was standing on gave and he fell. He would have died but I caught him by his hair. Gawd, he was mad. Screamed at me for days after that, for pulling at his hair. But he would have died, you know?"  
  
I nodded.   
  
"Anyway, I dream about it sometimes. That was back when we were all eleven or something but I've never quit dreaming about it. And in the dreams I never catch him either. He just flies past me and I wake up. But this time I didn't wake up right away. I climbed down the tree, and he was laying there at the bottom with his head all smashed up and his arms and legs smashed, and his eyes were wide open and he was staring at me and...he wasn't even Teddy anymore."  
  
"You remember that Brower kid who disappeared a couple of years ago? It was him. He was laying there at the bottom of the tree and it was my fault. If I'd have caught him he wouldn't have died."  
  
"Chris," I interrupted. "How did you know what the Brower kid even looked like? How did you know it was him, I mean...that was a long time ago, Chris."  
  
"Five years." he laughed. "Almost five years ago. Same summer Gordie's brother died."  
  
"Yeah." I remembered. "How did you know it was him?"  
  
He sighed. "I just knew, I guess. And it was so scary...I can't even explain....Gawd." He chuckled sadly. "You're probably thinking I'm the biggest baby in the world."  
  
"No," I shook my head. "No, you're tough Chris. It must have been real bad."  
  
We were both quiet for a moment. I turned to leave.  
  
"Say, Betsy?"  
  
"Yeah, Chris?"  
  
"You're all right." 


End file.
